


Lock And Key

by Zebeyithra



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Bondage, F/M, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, slight BDSM
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-04
Updated: 2015-06-04
Packaged: 2018-04-02 21:43:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4074880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zebeyithra/pseuds/Zebeyithra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the shock at Redcliffe, the Inquisitor feels the need to brush up on her lockpicking skills, but gets herself stuck. Cullen comes to the rescue. Small Spoilers and light bondage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lock And Key

**Author's Note:**

> Another one-shot that I had at FF. SMUT.

    “I honestly do not understand the purpose of this exercise, Inquisitor. Surely you know how to pick a lock with your eyes closed.” Leliana stared at the petite elven woman with a mixed look of surprise and amusement.

    “Well, in my preview of the future, Corypheus had a thing for shackles and cages. I can pop nearly any lock, but I haven’t had the opportunity to do it with, well,” The Inquisitor struggled against the restraints that Leliana had had sent up for the exercise in question. A bar locked against her ankles, keeping her legs spread and therefore keeping her from using her knees to hide anything. Another similar bar ran behind her head, steel shackles keeping her wrists near her head. A leather choker ran through the ring in the center, buckling around her slender throat, locking her arms in place. On the other side of the room lay the tools of her trade, glistening out of reach on the side table by the foot of her bed.

    “With your hands tied behind your back, Bryn? We already did the handcuffs and you were out of those in moments.” Leliana paced around her, worrying while checking the restraints. The redhead had insisted on taking some cotton strips and wrapping her bare wrists to keep the small elf from getting bruised. Bryn gave her best pout, a dark lower lip jutting out to match her chocolate-brown doe eyes.

    “Corypheus made Cassandra’s ‘encouragements’ look like child’s play. I refuse to be helpless. Now, finish it.” Leliana paused in front of her. A good of an idea as it was, she still disapproved.

    “What makes you think he’d even bother to restrain you this much? From what you’ve said before, he wants you dead.” She returned to stand behind the brunette elf, reaching for the thick chain fixed into the mortar. Leliana ran the chain through a large ring in the top of the bar, down Bryn’s back, and through a matching lower ring in the lower bar before returning it to the stone wall. Bryn’s pout folded into a true frown.

    “When Dorian and I made our trip, you were…” The sound of the chain stopped behind Bryn and she wished she had come up with something else. “Besides, if he doesn’t find a way into the Fade, he might decide to make me his own rift making tool.  I’d rather have a leg up on him.” Bryn shifted, listening to the chain clank against itself as she tested it. Leliana checked the fittings one last time before returning to stand in front of Bryn. This time, Leliana’s face was lit with a smile.

    “I admire your forethought, Inquisitor. Just so you know, even my most talented scouts would barely be able to get out of this. I’ll give you five hours before I come get you.” Bryn’s grin teased back at her.

    “Unless I get out before that. You underestimate my Dalish dexterity.” The redhead sighed and turned over a large hourglass, setting it on the table in the setting sunlight.

    “Your dexterity better get you out, Bryn, or someone is going to see you like this. Keep that in mind, Inquisitor.” Leliana’s singsong voice as she left gave Bryn a chill up her spine. Someone might see her?

    Bryn rested on her knees, letting her arms hang and relax in the restraints. She knew from experience that relaxed wrists could slip through shackles with ease. Gently rotating her thin wrists, she slowly rocked them in a figure eight, feeling her palm fold towards itself before…

    The shackles held fast against her wrists, the extra fabric filling the void between flesh and metal. Bryn frowned, realizing that Leliana had made sure to block the obvious exit. She would have to pick the lock first. She could just bend back and pull a pick from her hair with her toes, simple. She exhaled and bent back, feeling her shirt rise above her hips, a chill wind brushing against bare skin. The shiver it gave her threw her concentration off just enough to keep her backbend from being smooth, but it was useless--The chain only gave her enough room to bend back but not enough to reach her bare feet. She huffed, returning to her kneeling position.

    Her mind was racing--She should have know better than to have the Spymaster bind her. The Orlesian Bard knew how she fought and how she thought. She would have to think like Leliana. If there were guards, she could seduce them and it wouldn’t be an issue. But she was alone. Bryn strained against the shackles, feeling the steel bite through the cotton. A glance at the table told her it had barely been an hour. She still had plenty of time to figure out this contraption.

 

* * *

 

Two hours later, Bryn was a mess. Her wrists and ankles were slightly swollen from struggling and she had finally given into yelling in English and Elven. The light-brown blouse she had donned was drenched in sweat and her hair had finally fallen from the tight bun, a mess of lockpicks scattered around her. She strained her foot, reaching for one of the pick with her toes.

“Come here, you little… _Ar tu na'din_!” She cursed, watching the pick jump from between her toes. She could feel the rage growing in her as she surveyed the distant picks, almost jeering at her. Bryn roared in rage, shaking her mane of hair in the hopes of a few remaining picks. One lone pick caught in a knot, hanging in front of her like a carrot in front of a halla. Her eyes glittered as she gently rocked, tongue outstretched in an effort to catch it in her mouth.

“ _Halam sahlin, da’mi_ ,” Bryn chanted in a sing-song, rocking in time to the silver swinging in front of her eyes. One last move and she felt cold steel on her tongue. Holding back a cheer, she deftly maneuvered the pick between her lips. Biting the very edge, she pressed it out with her tongue, trying to make it reach her fingertips. The leather around her neck creaked as she strained. With a last push of effort, she spit the metal towards her fingers.

The pick twirled in the air, the sunset glistening off of it as her fingers wrapped around it.

“Yes! Oh Creators! Yes! Ye--” She paused, feeling a seam between the pads of her fingers. Gently uncurling her fingers, the pick fell in two, having snapped in her eager grasp. The slivers fell through the air and clinked gently on the ground like broken glass. Bryn’s tears followed, frustration breaking over.

“ _Ar tu na'lin emma mi, len'alas lath'din! Ma emma harel_ \--”

“Inquisitor? Are you alright? I heard screaming,” Cullen’s voice echoed up the stairwell to her quarters. Bryn froze, a cold sweat breaking out across her. She could have taken Leliana, maybe Josephine, hell, even Dorian walking in on her like this. But Cullen? The former Templar was more chivalrous than a fairy tale. If he saw her like this…

The handle to her door jiggled, but held shut. Bryn breathed a sigh, silently thanking Leliana for at least that.

“Inquisitor Lavellan? Are you there?” Cullen’s voice was more nervous than she expected, breaking over the formal title. All gratitude for Leliana flew out the window as Bryn glanced at the hourglass. She should still have at least another hour, but she knew that Leliana must have dropped a few choice suggestions to get Cullen worried enough to make him come looking for him.

A moment’s silence later and she could hear the handle jiggle once more before Cullen let out a very un-Cullen curse, slamming his shoulder into the frame of the door. He charged into the room, sword drawn and eyes dark, searching for danger. He strode around Bryn’s large bed, sweeping the room before finally seeing her, chained and bound to the wall. Cullen froze.

Bryn couldn’t help herself, her eyes locking with his. Cullen was the first and last person she wanted to see right now. She knew he would set her free and never say a word, only a blush to signal that he even knew what he saw. Cullen’s gaze traveled over her and she wondered what he saw. She was drenched in sweat, hair plastered to her forehead. She swallowed and summoned a grin, sitting back on the bar separating her legs.

“So… what brings you here?” Cullen sheathed his sword, blushing bright red and turning so he could only see Bryn out of the corner of his eye.

“I, uh, I thought I heard shouting. I thought you might be, um,” His gaze darted back to her, his cheeks blushing again.

“Inconvenienced? Yeah, you could say that. I tried to get Leliana to teach me a few things and I guess I got a little tied up.” Bryn chucked, her voice deepening a little as Cullen’s eyes returned to her, resting on her small form. A smile crept to his face.

“I can see that. She does take things a bit far, sometimes,” He chuckled. Something about it made Bryn shiver.

Cullen made his way to the small side table, looking at the hourglass and tools. Setting his sword and sheath on the chair, he sighed, turning back to Bryn. At some point she had begun to lean towards him, straining against the restraints. He had grabbed a glass of wine off the table. Bryn recognized it as the bottle she had set aside as her reward. He offered it forward wordlessly. Bryn’s nod was eager.

“Creators, yes. Can you, um,” She blushed, licking her lips. Cullen strode across the room, slowing as he approached her, a gleam entering his smile that made her knees quiver. He knelt, bringing the bottle to her lips and barely tipping it, the wine wetting her dry mouth gloriously. She moaned as it dripped down her throat, a droplet escaping the corner of her mouth. She froze as Cullen reached out and caught it on his finger, bringing it to his mouth and sucking the juice from the tip, all the while holding her gaze.

“Leliana would kill me if I let you loose, you know,” He mumbled, his voice more of a growl as he let his fingertips return to her cheek. Bryn’s skin prickled under his touch. His fingers were well calloused and rough against her soft flesh. Instinctively, she leaned into the gentle brush.

“It was all my idea, I’ll have you know.” Her voice failed as his gaze hardened, his fingers running down her neck to the leather choker. He mumbled something, tilting his head as he let his fingers run further down, resting on her collarbones. “What?”

“You look good in leather, Bryn.” His words rumbled from his throat, something possessive in the way his hand rested on her chest, a hair’s breadth from her cleavage. His left hand had found her leg, brushing slowly up it. At some point, they had shifted until her drenched back was pressed against the cold stone wall. Cullen was close enough that she could smell leather and metal and sweat coming off him like a thick perfume. His breathing drowned all thought from her mind. Only when his fingers crossed over her knee did the shiver bring words to her lips.

“Cullen--”

“Tell me to leave and I will, Bryn.” It was a promise, his words strained as he breathed her in, his nose brushing against her neck. Her mouth moved but no words came. She wanted him to leave, to forget that he had seen her like this. She wanted to stop wanting. Between the fighting and running, she was driving herself into the ground. She would tease and pinch and stroke the want from her every night, but within hours, her body would cry for the touch of another. Her body was singing for him.

She turned her head and caught his lips in hers, their lips searing together. His hand came up to pin against the wall next to her head, the other on her side, bringing her close to him. He was a mountain compared to her, a solid mass of muscle. A moan traveled up his throat as she pressed against him, nipping his lip. He pulled back, making her cry. His throaty laugh made her pout as he undid his armor slowly, setting it religiously on one of the empty mannikins she kept in her chambers.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were teasing me, Commander.” She climbed to her feet, grinning at him. In a moment, he had crossed back over to her and pressed down on her shoulder until she returned to her knees.

“I don’t remember giving you permission to rise, Inquisitor.” She was shocked speechless. This wasn’t the Commander Cullen she knew, but she liked it. “Good girl.” He grabbed a dagger from under her bedside table and returned to her, spinning it in his fingers. He pressed the cold steel against her chest, just keeping the tip from drawing blood. She gasped as the blade slid effortlessly through the cloth separating them, revealing her tanned skin. For a moment, Cullen’s eyes went wide and she reminded him of the innocent Chantry boys.

“Maker’s breath, Bryn.” He placed the blade on the table and his hands flew to her hips, brushing gently over her. Goosebumps rose where his fingers ghosted and it took all her effort not to moan like an Orlesian whore. “You are just gorgeous.” His hands rose, cupping her small breasts, her nipples rising like rosy peaks. Her knees shivered as he rolled her breasts around, feeling the give and take of her skin before rolling his thumbs up over her diamond-hard nipples. A gasp escaped from her lips, followed by a whimper as he removed his hands. “Shh, don’t worry.” It was part command, part comfort.

The blade returned to his hand and he cut the tattered blouse from her shoulders. Her arms were criss-crossed with scars from past battles and he marvelled over them, running his hands up and down the length of her arms. Her hands flailed in the shackles, craving to touch him, to feel his warm skin. His chuckle rumbled in her ears as he kissed her fingertips.

“Not yet.”

“Not yet? Please,” She cooed, rolling her body towards his. He nipped her neck, kissing along her jaw until his lips returned to hers.

“No. Let me be in charge for once. You might like it, Inquisitor.”

Her body quivered. She hadn’t imagined Cullen to be so dominant. She knew, as a commander, he was used to giving orders, but this was different. Before she could glare at him, he had deftly cut the loose pants from her hips, letting them drop to the ground. Only her soaked small clothes separated his seeking fingers from her. He pressed his palm against her, feeling the heat pour off her, a whine escaping her lips. He grinned, kissing her cheek. 

“Good girl, Bryn.” His questing fingers untied the knots holding the small clothes together, letting them fall off. His fingers brushed at her wetness and he almost purred in her ear.

“Do you want me, Bryn? I want to hear you say it.” His lips pressed to her ear, whispering as his thick middle finger ran along her slit, making her jump and cry out. She nodded, turning her head to find his lips, but he pulled away. “Say it, Bryn.”

“I-I need you, Cullen. Please.” Her whimpers made him groan as he dipped his digit into her dripping slit, stretching ever so slightly around him. Her hips jerked as she felt his index finger roll across her clit, making her head fall back. Her stomach quivered as she felt him slowly pump his finger into her, his palm pressing against her before pulling back. Cullen’s lips found her pert nipple and sucked it into his mouth, biting and sucking on her gently.

It was too much. She screamed, her pussy clenching around his finger as she rode against him, stars blossoming against her eyes as her body shook. Her nails dug into her palms, welting her skin. Cullen stopped to watch her, eyes wide as she arched her back, her body gloriously stretched to its limits. After an eternity, she gasped for air, collapsing back to her knees. He reached forward to catch her, wrapping an arm under hers. He fished the key out of his pocket and quickly undid the locks, having to brush broken lockpicks out of the shaft. The restraints fell to the ground with a solid clunk, waking Bryn from her reverie.

“I… you…” Her eyes rolled, finally settling on his smiling face as he lifted her, placing her on her bed. He nodded, knowing the accusation was coming. Instead, Bryn smiled, stretching out like a cat in the sun, skin almost glowing.

“Yes, you can yell at Leliana later.” Bryn sighed, rolling over, giving Cullen a wide view of her back and the vallaslin that trailed down it. His fingers traced over the patterns, making her giggle lightly.

“Oh I will. But that won’t be the first thing I do when I finally get up.”


End file.
